bookbashuk Page 679
Page 679
"The Chaos Mighty, the Great Raider Ezekiel Abaddon exclaimed, his eyelids twitching incongruously as he stared intently at the images transmitted back from the warship ahead."
Beside him, Kayan, who had just finished casting a spell, also felt a strange pressure. The residual warmth of the psionic energy quickly faded from his gauntlets, and the psionicist trembled as he uttered half a syllable.
“Ming…Ming…”
Kayan couldn't continue speaking; the color quickly faded from his face, and he stared intently at the screen—the entire city of Baal was trembling.
Baal is glowing—the church bells are ringing, stones are peeling off the sculptures, and a warm golden light, like a veil, gently envelops all living things.
If we only consider this point, then the current scene would likely be propagated by the state religion as a manifestation of the divine emperor.
But that's clearly not all... Something even more terrifying and violent is churning beneath Baal's earth.
The chilling blood energy, sharp as a knife, burst forth from the earth, towering like mountains. The shockwave from its shrill cries was visible even from space. It sounded like the howls of billions of vengeful ghosts. Abaddon seemed to hear their roars, and blood seemed to flow down his ears.
A monster, a monster imprisoned for a thousand years, is trying to return to the earth. It stretches out its tentacles, trying to touch the sun.
He knew it was the psychic power of the fallen Saint Gilles—the Lord of Blood and Lust—which was exactly what Abaddon the Great Raider wanted.
But what followed made him feel pale and powerless.
A formless darkness emerged from the depths of the earth, swiftly enveloping the protruding blood and bones like winding vines. The cries of countless wronged souls, however, sounded more like the lamentations of those on their deathbeds.
Before the pitch-black river, even the blood and energy that seemed to break through the earth's crust appeared futile and powerless.
"A monster, an absolute monster."
Abaddon said he felt a chill run down his spine, and his high ponytail tightened. He seemed to recall the scene in the Eye of Fear, but back then, that being relied on the technology of the necromancers.
...Can the Lord of Endless Greed really achieve this on his own now?
Does he want to be an enemy of... such a being?
This is practically the intensity of chaos—but far worse than that, an absolute, genuine chaos is roaming the world.
Or rather, that is the chaos of the physical world.
Abaddon, who had been silent and shocked, spoke up. At this moment, Abaddon respected Kayan because he knew that Kayan, as a psionicist, would suffer a far heavier impact than he would.
"Are you... still planning to go?"
Kayan said, trying to sound casual,
"Why don't we just observe the Blood Lord's performance? You're quite adept at this kind of thing."
Abaddon was silent for a moment. He clenched his fist. Now that one of the Chaos Great Powers had fallen, the remaining Chaos... as long as Greed and the Lord of Endlessness were there, the Chaos might not be a match for the Empire.
But he has no intention of fleeing now.
On the day Slaanesh disappeared, he remained inactive to assess the situation, but now, if he did not act, he would truly be left with no choice but to be passively attacked in the future.
Moreover, Abaddon could foresee that the warp, which rejected the Lord of Greed, would one day become their true base—
That being completely reversed the situation. The reality of warp invading the physical world is about to end. If the Empire wins another great victory in this battle, then the future will be the physical world invading the warp.
"go."
A high-gothic word, resounding with power.
Abaddon clenched his fist.
"After Slaanesh's fall, all warp creatures and all psionic beings know who their true enemy is. Now is the time for us to gather our forces. We need to step forward and tell the other beings lurking in the shadows that there is a third force fighting against him."
Kayan, standing beside him, paused in surprise for a moment before clapping twice.
"Alright, then I'll open the portal for you—the greenskins have already boarded the ship."
Abaddon's aura froze for a moment.
Although that was the plan, with the Greenskins going first, it was somewhat awkward that the Greenskins beat him to it after he made that decision.
"Not urgent."
Abbotton said he looked at the screen again and saw that the situation on Barr had changed dramatically in just one minute.
"Let the Blood Lord's warriors drink their fill of blood on the main battlefield, while we will take care of the long-range fleet battles that the Blood Lord dislikes."
Darkness reflected in Abaddon's pupils—
More black mist drifted out, easily attaching itself to the target, and the towering blood-red mountains began to collapse, much faster than summer ice cream melting.
It just tastes a bit strange.
Hades thought to himself, his eyes fixed intently on the Iron Maiden at the center of the altar.
The silent, downcast statue was trembling violently, the chains binding the Iron Maiden were breaking one by one, and messy, dirty blood feathers were spurting out haphazardly from the gaps in the metal.
[The final three seals!]
"Angron shouted from the side of the altar, holding his battle axe and pausing in front of the chains burning with golden flames. Even if Angron doesn't open them now, it's only a matter of time before Saint Gilles breaks free from his imprisonment."
On the other side, Waldo was guarding the altar in preparation for the imprisonment ceremony. The Imperial Guard remained silent, seemingly not intending to participate in the battle.
Angron looked at Hades, who was facing the coffin of Sangilius, and felt a little nauseous, but the Primarch, who had been through countless battles, suppressed the urge to vomit.
The humanoid shape suspended in the air slowly drooped down black droplets, and a silver-white scythe hung down. Behind it, a giant black tree extended from top to bottom, penetrating the ceiling and the floor. Fine, dark patterns climbed densely on the ceiling.
Is it more difficult to deal with than you imagined?
Beside Hades, Mortarion, who was also flying in the air, asked, and the Primarch looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully.
“His psychic energy is connected to the entire psychic energy layer of Baal.”
Hades said,
“The golden psionic layer that was enveloping Baal just mutated—it directly transformed into corrupted psionic energy. I can roughly understand why.”
Mortarian pondered for a moment.
[The psychic energy that imprisons the fallen psionic energy of Saint Gilles is not actually the psionic energy of the Lord of Humanity.]
Primitive theory,
[But it was Saint Gilles' own.]
"I don't understand psionic things,"
Hades said,
“But I know I have to take care of both battlefields from now on. I have already covered most of Baal’s psionic layer.”
Hades is now dealing with the corrupted parts, preventing them from seeping into the earth's crust, and trying to keep the underground battle from affecting the surface.
For the Earth's surface, the best-case scenario is a major earthquake.
The strata of Baal are now in a state of chaos, with both the magnetic and psionic fields disordered, thus severing the connection with the ground.
【I suggest—】that we send Killieman up.
But Mortarian's words were drowned out by shrieks and the cracking of metal.
The Pale Lord's pupils suddenly shrank, and before he could react, the beings beside him shot out like bullets!
And they came up empty-handed.
"Holy crap?!"
Hades' voice came from the other end of the altar and echoed in the crypt; he seemed unable to stop.
clang--! ! !
The empty, rusty Iron Maiden fell to the ground.
【above!】
The words of the Lord of Red Sand rang out at the opportune moment, and Mortarion reacted instinctively, raising his scythe and arm to block.
throat!!!
Mortarion, which was flying in the air, was suddenly kicked backward, and scales and feathers danced wildly in the air.
The sound of metal clashing pierced his soul. In the gap between the gauntlet and the long scythe, a blood claw trembled and stretched forward, reaching for Mortalian's eyeball.
Mortarian's pupils trembled as he saw cracks spreading across the scythe—damn, this birdman's bones are so hard?
You don't smell good, my brother.
Wen Lang's provocative words lightly touched Motalian's ears. Motalian suddenly twisted his wrist to dissipate the force, and the immense pressure on him vanished instantly. The blood-covered figure pushed off with a mighty leap, using the momentum to rise high into the air once more.
【cough! 】
Mortarian vomited a mouthful of ashes as Sanguiles kicked the spot in front of Angron's back.
A thousand years have passed... How come Saint Gilles seems even more powerful than he was back then?
His bloodshot eyes spun, an unbearable thirst surging in his throat. He felt pain, unbearable pain, uncontrollable pain, unsuppressable pain. Only blood could nourish his parched soul.
High above, in the hollow darkness, the Lord of Blood and Lust hovered in the air, his fangs gleaming with a chilling coldness. Uneasy restlessness and icy indifference coexisted within him.
The wings, soaked in congealed blood, flapped, the feathers in disarray, each flap causing drops of blood to fall.
Saint Gilles de Sánchez methodically grasped the spike piercing his wrist, pulled out the blood-stained and rusty spike, and casually tossed it to the ground.
Mortarian was not a good choice—Sanguielles doubted whether he truly possessed blood.
what……
Saint Gilles thought of this and looked at Angron, Gilliman, and Waldo, who had already gathered together on the ground.
He was not afraid of them, nor did he even take them seriously—Saint-Gilles knew that he far surpassed them in strength and agility, and he had an absolute reputation for self-confidence and self-awareness.
Back in the Great Crusade, before his fall, Saint Gilles was a gap in the Primarch's fighting strength. Now, however, he has fallen, after absorbing a thousand years of faith, after fermenting a thousand years of sin, and after abandoning all his conscience—
He once again became that supreme and unique being.
+You guys...+
Saint Gilles said that the wings turned almost as if following the will of the heart.
It's ridiculous.
He was so close that only the nerves around the eyes of Anglon and Gilliman reacted; Saint Gilles bared his fangs and lunged downwards—
+Cough! ! ! +
Saint Gillespie, flying through the air, was interrupted, appearing broken in the middle, like a bird with broken wings.
Hades unleashes a [Flying Horizontal Kick].
"Do you even know what 'baiting' means?!"
Hades roared.
"caught you!"
Now, Saint Gilles' soul throbs with the sight of blood. The vampire's eyes see nothing else. The addict doesn't care about the gun barrel pressed against his forehead; he only wants that sip of nectar.
He completely overlooked the biggest threat, and so Hades's [Stealth] ability, which hadn't worked for millennia, was activated again in a delicate situation.
Hades knew that Saint Gilles had probably ignored him when he didn't first show a disgusted expression in the direction of Hades.
No psionic creature would ignore him, and no hostile psionic creature would not target him immediately—unless…unless he was not discovered.
It was posted a little late, August 8.16th, which is tomorrow night.
Chapter 712 Under His Shadow
【What's wrong? 】
Horus asked with concern, his brow furrowed as he looked at Saint Gilles, who had momentarily frozen in place.
The archangel did not answer him.
Beside the small chairs where the two Primarchs sat, a waterfall made of jagged rocks cascaded down, with green leaves swaying among the splashing water and birdsong filling the air.
Saint Gilles blinked blankly, the warm smile on his lips gradually fading.
I might... be leaving soon.
Saint Gilles said softly, and he seemed to accept the fact quite easily, without any dissatisfaction or indignation.
He merely looked away from Horus, casually raising his cup to swallow the thick, bitter liquid.
【No,】
Horus was startled and leaned forward.